


Righting the Wrong

by lightsinthefloors



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anxiety, Autistic Character, Autistic Spencer Reid, Dad Aaron Hotchner, Established Relationship, Father Figure Hotch, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moreid, Over stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsinthefloors/pseuds/lightsinthefloors
Summary: The bright lights of the bullpen and the scratchy material of his shirt is almost enough to drive Spencer crazy. Derek puts him at ease. Pure fluff.Imagine whichever era you want, but I picture baby Reid, like s2 Reid.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 12
Kudos: 311





	Righting the Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer- I don’t have autism, and apologize if I couldn’t capture certain things in the best way possible. I’ve done some research and based this loosely on other autistic Reid fics I’ve read. How he’s feeling is mixed with that and the feelings of anxiety, which I’m experienced with. If anything is drastically wrong or offensive in any way, please do not hesitate to let me know! Enjoy!

Nothing feels right and it’s not a good day. That’s all Spencer can really say about how he feels. Everything is just wrong, but he has no idea how to describe it. He doesn’t feel nauseous but he definitely has no appetite, and the way his button down rubs against his torso is nearly driving him insane. It’s bright and loud in the bullpen, everyone talking about their Friday night plans. Spencer is supposed to go over Derek’s tonight, but he thinks those plans might fall through. His hand flaps absentmindedly at his side, and there’s not much he can do to stop the stim. He doesn’t want to, anyway. It’s the one thing keeping him calm in the moment. 

“Hey, Spence, what are your plans this weekend?” JJ asks. Had she known how he’s feeling, she wouldn’t have inserted him into the conversation. Spencer can’t blame her though. She’s only trying to be polite. 

He shrugs, although he knows exactly what his plans are. Spencer wants to say he doesn’t know why he didn’t answer, but he does. Trying to talk will make things worse, especially when he’s feeling as anxious as he is. JJ glances down at his hand rhythmically tapping against his thigh, and he’s thankful that she doesn’t press. Derek catches Spencer’s eye, and watches the younger man curl his arms around his midsection protectively, averting his gaze. He’s not mad that Spencer didn’t answer the question, just concerned. His boyfriend always speaks his mind. Spencer being uncharacteristically quiet is a telltale sign that something isn’t right. He starts to walk over, not missing how Spencer attempts to curl in on himself further. 

“Hey, pretty boy. Everything alright?” Derek asks quietly, putting a hand on the back of Spencer’s neck. 

Spencer all but hisses at the touch, shying away. “Burns,” he mumbles, squeezing his arms tighter around his belly. 

Derek immediately drops his hand, his heart aching. The uncomfortable, stretchy skin feeling you get during a fever plagues Spencer often, especially when he’s dealing with a sensory overload. The smallest touch could send him into a full meltdown, and Derek inwardly cursed at himself for not thinking to ask before he acted. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Can you talk to me about how you’re feeling?” Derek asks, kneeling down next to his chair. 

“I don’t know how I’m feeling,” Spencer frowns, rocking back and forth a little. “Everything feels wrong.”

“Alright, baby boy. What’s bothering you the most right now?” Derek knows Spencer isn’t fond of nicknames during work hours, but he also knows he could use some extra comfort at the moment. 

“My skin... and- and my stomach,” Spencer mumbles, brow furrowed. “But not nausea. Like- I don’t know how to describe it.”

“That’s okay,” Derek soothes, knowing it’s hard not to have a word to describe the way he’s feeling. “It’s bright and loud in here, even for me. Do you want to go in the bathroom for some quiet?” 

“Quiet,” Spencer repeats, nodding slowly. “Yes, please.”

Derek stands, giving Spencer his space. The younger man follows Derek into the bathroom, watching his boyfriend lock it behind them. They stand far enough apart that Spencer can calm down, but close enough that he can lean into Derek if he needs it. His arms are still wrapped around his lithe figure as if he’s protecting himself from something, swaying back and forth. 

“I want to go home. Nothing feels right,” Spencer frowns. 

“When was the last time you ate a real meal?” Derek asks instead, raising an eyebrow. Spencer’s silence was answer enough. “You’re too thin, sweetheart.”

“Eating makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. I hate throwing up,” Spencer states bluntly. 

“I know, baby. I know. But you might be feeling bad because your body needs fuel. You can’t not eat and then expect to function properly,” Derek explains gently. 

“I don’t like the way it makes me feel,” Spencer whispers. “Everything feels... tight. Like Christmas lights all tangled up in my belly, and they never come undone.”

“That happens when you’re anxious. What’s been on your mind lately?” Derek hums, reaching his hand out. He smiles softly when Spencer takes it, squeezing tight. 

“A lot, I guess. Cases and stuff. People think I shouldn’t be here,” Spencer tells him, his face crumpling up a bit. “The police officers treat me like a child just because I’m younger than everyone, and because I need to take a break sometimes.”

“They’re just assholes,” Derek frowns, rubbing his thumb over Spencer’s hand. “You’re smarter than all of them. Do you want a harder or softer touch?”

“Harder,” Spencer mumbles, needing his mind on something else. 

Derek grips his hand a bit harder, the other one going up his shirt to rest against Spencer’s abdomen. A warm hand on his belly, gentle yet firm, is grounding. It makes it easier to focus on the slightly calloused feeling rather than the itchy material of his shirt, which is still bothering him a bit. One of Spencer’s hands are still a bit shaky, but he reaches up to undo two of his top buttons, sighing heavily as some of the almost unbearable feeling released. 

“Better?” Derek hums, carefully moving his fingers back and forth over his middle. 

Spencer nods softly, pressing a little closer. “Yes. Thank you... it was a little too much in the bullpen.” 

“It’s okay. Everyone needs a little break sometimes. It’s Friday, almost five. Nothing’s come up, I’m sure Hotch won’t have a problem if we go home now. Do you still want to?” 

“I want to go home,” Spencer confirms. “Will Hotch be mad at me?”

“No, Hotch won’t be mad,” Derek assures. 

Spencer is quiet for a moment, squirming around. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all, sweetness,” he promises, pressing his lips to Spencer’s. 

Kisses are always a toss up. They can either calm Spencer down or make everything worse. Luckily, today is the former. Spencer hums contently, leaning into Derek more. The older man’s hand is still under his shirt, the light pressure of that and the warm touch of lips calming Spencer immensely. Derek isn’t mad at him, and at the moment, it’s quiet. It’s perfect. 

“I love you,” Derek murmurs. “I’ll take you home and make sure you get some real food in you. I bet you’ll feel a lot better after that.”

“I love you too,” Spencer nods, not really listening to whatever else he says. “It’s time to go back out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” Derek smiles, knowing routine helps a lot. “Go back out and get your things. Say goodbye to JJ and Emily. Tell Hotch you’re leaving, and say goodbye to Garcia on the way out. Is that plan okay?”

“Mhm,” Spencer nods, running it through his head. “It’s okay.”

Derek kisses him once more, leading him out. Spencer gets his coat and bag, bidding the girls a good weekend. He heads to Hotch’s office, feeling the anxiety start to bubble in his stomach and up his chest again. He knocks on the door before slowly letting himself in, waving timidly at his boss. 

“Spencer, come in,” Hotch replies, taking care to use his first name and successfully putting Spencer at ease. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Hotch... is it okay if Derek and I leave a little early? Nothing’s come up so far and all my work is done. I just... need to calm down,” Spencer murmurs, trailing off towards the end. 

Hotch nods, gesturing for him to sit down. “I don’t have a problem with you leaving. I’ll call if something urgent comes up. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Everything was too... intense today. It was too loud, and too bright. My shirt isn’t a good material- I should probably get rid of it. I don’t really feel well, I don’t think,” Spencer sighs. “So Derek said he’ll take me home and make sure I eat dinner.”

“Have you not been eating dinner?” Hotch asks, careful not to have an accusatory tone. 

Spencer shakes his head, knowing there’s no point in lying. “No. I think I wasn’t eating because I felt bad, and now I feel bad because I haven’t been eating. It won’t be easy to fall out of the cycle, but I’ll try.”

“Trying is one of the biggest parts of it,” Hotch says encouragingly, a proud smile coming on his lips. “It’s good that you were able to identify the problem, and thank you for explaining to me why you need to leave. Have a good weekend and call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer smiles softly. “Have a nice weekend.”

He gets up after that, a big weight lifting off his chest. Derek is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Wordlessly, they head to Garcia’s room, the next part of their routine. They always say goodbye to her as the final thing before they leave, and today is no different. 

“Hello, my doves,” Penelope croons, somehow feeling them enter the room without even turning around. “Time to go already?”

“We’re heading out a bit early today, baby girl,” Derek hums, the slightest raise of an eyebrow telling her not to ask any questions. 

“Alright! Get an early start to the weekend. Come here, Reid, I’ve got your daily fix,” Penelope chuckles, pushing the jar of hard candy towards him. 

“Thank you,” Spencer smiles, taking peppermint as usual. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“See you Monday, beautiful boy. You as well, my chocolate thunder,” she smiles. 

The two of them walk out after saying goodbye, leaving the building for good this time. It’s quiet as they walk to the car, joining hands once outside. Spencer tries to keep their love life out of work, glaring at Derek when he slips with nicknames or is being especially affectionate when they’re busy. But as soon as they’re off the clock, Spencer is rather doting towards Derek. Contrary to popular belief, physical affection is something Spencer craves. He just knows that there’s a time and a place, and crossing those lines can make him more uncomfortable than anything. He climbs in the passenger seat of Derek’s car, leaning against the window. 

“Your place or mine?” Derek questions. 

“Yours,” Spencer says automatically. “It’s cleaner than mine. I like clean.”

“I know you do, baby,” Derek smiles fondly, rubbing Spencer’s thigh. 

Spencer smiles back, already feeling more at ease now that they’re out of work. Derek always makes him feel relaxed, feel at home. And home they go, arriving at Derek’s apartment shortly. Spencer grips onto his hand, running his thumb along the side of it, a quick back and forth motion. Derek leads him inside, unlocking the door and steering Spencer towards his room. 

“Let’s both change into something more comfortable, and then I’ll get you something to eat. Good?” Derek asks. 

Spencer shrugs softly, still feeling a little wound up. “I guess so,” he whispers. “I like the first part. Not the second one.”

“It’s going to be just fine, you’ll see. And I’ll be right with you the whole time,” Derek says gently. 

Spencer sways back and forth for a moment before starting to change, that being his reluctant agreement to the situation. His hands shake a bit more as he unbuttons his shirt, the fabric brushing against him once again in an unsettling way. Spencer gets it off though, pulling one of Derek’s sweatshirts over his head. It’s nice- it’s cotton and soft and smells not too strongly of cologne that it’s unbearable, but enough for it to be soothing. He wiggles out of his slacks, pulling on the warm, flannel pajama pants in return. 

“Now come sit on the couch. Do you want a blanket?”

“I’m warm enough. Maybe later,” Spencer murmurs, rubbing the fabric of his hoodie between two fingers. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Yes you are. It’ll make you feel better,” Derek murmurs, stroking Spencer’s hair for a moment. “Try and relax for a little.”

Before anymore protests, Derek heads to the kitchen, trying to decide what to make. He eventually settles on soup, something light enough on Spencer’s stomach but will still fill him up. He knows it’s been a hard day for Spencer. Now, he just wants to help. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, taking the hot soup back out to his boyfriend. Spencer is curled up in the corner of the couch, the tv still off. Derek smiles, watching him be the calmest he’s been all day, just zoning out. He snaps out of it a moment later, blinking hard and turning towards him. 

“Coming back to me, baby boy?” Derek coos, sitting next to him. “You look tired. Eat and then we’ll relax.”

“Fine,” Spencer mumbles, taking the bowl out of his hand. He takes a spoonful, sighing softly. “It’s warm...”

“That’s right. Is it too hot?” Derek questions softly. 

Spencer shakes his head. “No. It’s fine.”

Somewhat satisfied, Spencer continues to eat. He supposes that he actually is hungry, deciding that it tastes good. It’s when he finishes that all the broth feels too uncomfortable, the soup sloshing around in his belly every time he moves- and Spencer is a rather squirmy person. He presses his hand to his stomach, hearing it give a grumble of protest. 

“I don’t feel good,” Spencer frowns. “It hurts.”

Derek sighs sadly, wishing he could take it all away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But it’ll pass soon, and your body will feel ten times better when you wake up. Come on, let’s lay down.”

The older man helps him stand, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him towards the bedroom again. Spencer lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, attempting to nuzzle against his neck. Derek chuckles softly, getting them into bed so they could properly snuggle. 

“Alright, pretty boy. Now it’s time to talk. You don’t need your mind going a mile a minute while you try and sleep, so tell me what’s bothering you in the moment. Then we’ll fix it,” Derek prompts. 

Spencer thinks about it, pressing close. “I feel much better overall now that we’re no longer at work. I mostly feel physically unwell right now,” he mumbles, brows knitted. “I don’t want to throw up.”

“We’ll make sure you keep it down,” Derek promises, one hand already stroking his thin waist. “Close your eyes now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

That was all the reassurance Spencer needed, the genius’ shoulders becoming less tense, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He presses back against Derek, closing his eyes a little bit. It doesn’t take too long for Spencer to fall asleep, the tight ball of Christmas lights in his stomach slowly starting to untangle.


End file.
